Forty Crazy Years of Friendship

By Richard Hulse

Author Richard Hulses best friend, Baines Spivington, lived a life that leaned away from convention. That is not to say he did not live an ordinary life; he just had his own way of doing things. He was passionate and unselfish when it came to helping and caring for family and friends. At times he questioned who he was, especially when he reflected on his intelligence and the successes and failures of various endeavors of his life.

Baines was a funny, talented, and creative individual. He was serious when it came to his relationships with women. He was shy and uncomfortable around strangers, but in the presence of his friends he was gregarious and outgoing. He lived a rich life, though it was stressful at times.

Travel with Baines, Richard, and Rowdy as they drink themselves across Europe. Join them for spring break at Anza Borrego Desert and Oceanside, California. Enjoy the story of Bainess first colonoscopy. Laugh at Richard and Bainess attempt to pick up women one warm summer day at Sorrento Beach in Santa Monica, California. Help them cheer on the Los Angeles Raiders and the USC Trojans football teams. Learn about Bainess talent as an actor and writer. Experience Bainess pursuit of a satisfying career. Appreciate the story of a crazy friendship that lasted for over forty years.

Hulses adventures with Baines were both comical and tragic. This biography serves as a memorial to a man who lived a life that mattered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491770382

Richard Hulse

Richard Hulse is a retired educator and the former athletic director at Granada Hills Charter High School. He is an avid sports fan and loves to travel. He lives with his wife, Debi, in Hollywood Beach, California, where they enjoy walks on the beach and watching dolphins surf the waves at sunset.

Book preview

FORTY CRAZY YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP

Copyright © 2015 Richard Hulse.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-7037-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7038-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015909476

iUniverse rev. date:  06/29/2015

Contents

Preface

Chapter 1     Beach House

Chapter 2     Ballin’ the Jack

Chapter 3     On the Road Again

Chapter 4     Tim Ball Calls

Chapter 5     Saturday at the Office

Chapter 6     Baines’s Cell Phone

Chapter 7     Little Tony’s

Chapter 8     After Little Tony’s

Chapter 9     Monty First

Chapter 10     Getting To Know You

Chapter 11     Not Always a Valley Boy

Chapter 12     Let the Partying Begin

Chapter 13     The Punch of the Planter’s

Chapter 14     Baines the Reader, Writer, Editor, English Teacher, and Thinker

Chapter 15     Baines the Thespian

Chapter 16     Baines and Women

Chapter 17     Nuts and a Motorcycle Ride

Chapter 18     Revisiting the Tickets

Chapter 19     Car Story

Chapter 20     A Pumpkin for Debi

Chapter 21     Isabel, Ethan, and Baines’s Travels

Chapter 22     A Fish Story

Chapter 23     Vegas Baby!

Chapter 24     En Route to Europe, LA to New York

Chapter 25     Zurich to Geneva to Genoa

Chapter 26     Milano, St. Moritz, and a Zimmer

Chapter 27     Dachau

Chapter 28     The English Gardens and More

Chapter 29     Plunkett

Chapter 30     Walks

Chapter 31     Right Hand

Chapter 32     Baines and My Family

Chapter 33     Hanging Out with and Taking Care of Ethan B. Schwartz

Chapter 34     The Pact

Chapter 35     Colonoscopies

Chapter 36     Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum

Chapter 37     The Red Ball

Chapter 38     A Few Other Classic Experiences with My Friend, Baines Spivington

Chapter 39     A Few Last Words about My Friend, Baines Spivington

Epilogue

PREFACE

I spoke to my friend, Baines Spivington, the night before he passed away. I had no idea it would be the last time we would speak to one another, and our crazy, forty year friendship would come to a tragic abrupt end.

The following is a true story about the life of my friend. It is based on facts and actual events that occurred in his life. The dialogue is as accurate as I can recall. In this work of narrative nonfiction, I have reimagined some of the scenes or reconstructed events in a way I believe reflects the essence of the scenes or events in the minds and hearts of the people who lived through them.

This is meant to be a memorial to the life of my friend, Baines Spivington. His life was not boring, and during much of his life, he avoided or leaned away from convention. I have tried to provide balance as I highlighted the serious and the less serious aspects of his life. Many of the names used in this book are fictitious in order to protect the privacy of certain individuals.

Some of the information in the book I obtained by researching Baines’s personal papers given to me by members of his family. Certain other facts or parts of the story are based on conversations with friends and relatives, my personal experiences and recollections, and my notes and writings.

I wish to thank my wife, Debi, who provided me with meaningful support, served as my editor, and provided constructive criticism as she helped me develop the story.

CHAPTER 1

Beach House

On Saturday night, December 8, 2007, I was at my beach pad at Hollywood Beach Mobile Home Park in Oxnard, California. I spent most weekends there during the school year and tried to make it my place of enjoyment when I was off from my teaching job for the summer or during the holidays. It was my haven away from the rigors of teaching P.E. and acting as Athletic Director at Granada Hills Charter High School. I and my wife, Debi, had another home in Simi Valley, California, where she was spending this same December weekend without me.

Watching TV had taken up most of my evening, along with preparing and consuming a dinner of barbecued steak, garlic cheese bread, and a green salad with blue cheese dressing, which is my favorite meal. Glasses of pinot noir complemented the meal and continued to ease me into the later hours of the evening.

Pressing the button on the television remote to find something to conclude my evening TV watching, I came upon a movie on AMC starring Gary Cooper. Since I am a big fan of the actor, I was curious. It had been on awhile, but after watching for a few minutes, I gathered that it was a movie about an ordinary man who had somehow gained nationwide celebrity status as an everyman’s American hero—a guy named John Doe. Not knowing the name of the movie, and fascinated with the premise, I wanted to know the details I was missing.

So I decided to call my crazy, offbeat friend Baines Spivington, who was a genius when it came to TV and movie trivia and could answer any question I might have. It had been awhile since I’d talked to Baines, and I thought this would be an opportunity not only to get info about the movie, but also to get an update on how life had been treating him.

Baines filled me in on the plot of the movie, which was called Meet John Doe, and expressed life was treating him well. Seeing as both of us were tired, we agreed that we would continue our conversation on other meaningless topics the next morning.

After my movie ended, I watched the last part of Thelma and Louise, which Baines had been watching. When it ended, my eyelids were beginning to feel like lead; sleep was beckoning me. I rose from the love seat I was lying on, trudged down the hall to the master bedroom, and eased into bed.

I woke up the next morning and sipped coffee while I read the Sunday Los Angeles Times in bed. As was customary, I followed this leisurely activity with a shower and shave and then dressed and went to the local McDonald’s for a late breakfast.

Over hotcakes, sausage, and another cup of coffee, I enjoyed listening to a group of old guys discussing a possible Democratic Party presidential candidate named Barack Obama. Their positive comments far outweighed their negative comments as they tried to determine whether, come election time, he might be their guy.

After McDonald’s I paid a visit to Silver Strand Beach, where I watched surfers ripping waves on their boards offshore. At the same time, members of Alcoholics Anonymous were verbally ripping the evils of alcohol from their beach chairs onshore as they sucked down large mugs of coffee. After a fifteen-minute stay, I headed for home to plan out the rest of my day.

The light was blinking red on the kitchen phone when I arrived. Someone had tried to reach me while I was away. Probably Debi. It was too early for my brother, Bo, who lives in Hawaii. The kids were at church. I pushed the button on the phone to stop the blinking, put the phone to my ear, and listened to the anxious and worried voice of my wife.

Rich, this is Debi! Call me, please!

I dialed home, and Debi answered after the first ring.

Hello.

Debi it’s me. What’s up?

Rich, sit down, Debi said in a worried tone on the other end of the line.

What’s happening, Debi? You sound upset.

Are you seated?

I am. Yes. What’s up?

Debi explained calmly, Baines Spivington is in the hospital. There was a fire in his condo last night, and he suffered burns and smoke inhalation. The police called me because Baines had our home phone number in his wallet. And when they searched him at the hospital looking for relatives to contact, we were it.

You’re kidding me, aren’t you, Debi? This has got to be an effing joke. I talked to Baines last night.

This is no joke. He may die, Rich. He’s that serious according to the policeman. He’s at the Grossman Burn Center on Van Nuys Boulevard in Sherman Oaks.

I suddenly felt anxious. You need to be calm, I thought. Level-headed. Don’t panic. You need to help your friend.

Debi gave me directions to the hospital, a place I was familiar with, having visited it years ago when my mother received treatment for a severely burned hand that had required skin grafts and plastic surgery. Dr. Grossman had been her surgeon, and at the time he had been considered the best in the West, if not the world, in treating the most severe burn cases. Debi and I knew Baines was in the best place for his condition.

I’m on my way to the hospital, Debi. First I need to contact Baines’s brother, Monty, up north. Do you have Tim and Jane’s phone number?

Who are they?

Baines’s sister and his brother-in-law!

Why would we have their number?

I felt frustrated because Debi had met them on several occasions. Okay. I’ll try the operator for information, Debi. See you at the hospital.

I hung up and dialed information.

What city, please? asked a polite male voice.

Laguna Beach. Ah, maybe South Laguna Beach.

Name and address, please.

Ah, Tim. Tim Ball. I don’t have an address.

Seconds dragged on like minutes. There are two Tim Balls in Laguna Beach, sir.

Give me both of them, please. I scribbled down the information on the magnetic notepad I’d pulled off the kitchen refrigerator door. Thanks, man. You’ve been a big help.

I dialed the first Tim Ball. He was the wrong one, a professor at UC Irvine. My Tim Ball, Baines’s brother-in-law, was a retired psychologist who had worked at Kaiser, in Laguna Hills, before his retirement. I dialed the second number and was greeted by an answering machine. I gave my name and my home and cell phone numbers and indicated that I needed to talk to Tim or Jane Ball. They knew me as one of Baines’s best friends, having met me on numerous family occasions and out at restaurants. I hung up and hoped this might be the right Tim Ball and that he would receive my message.

I decided to call Monty knowing that if Tim tried to contact me, call waiting would pick up his call.

Monty’s wife answered. Hello.

Trudy? This is Richard Hulse. Is Monty in?

Why, Rich, how are you? she said in her usual polite voice. Monty’s not here. He’s at our beach house at Sea Ranch. (I had called Trudy at the couple’s home in Lafayette, near San Francisco.)

Trudy, I need to get hold of him. I became light-headed and struggled to speak. I whispered slowly, Trudy, Baines is in a burn hospital in Sherman Oaks. His condo caught fire, and he was trapped inside. I don’t know all of the details. I just know I need to get hold of Monty.

I gained strength after taking in a slow deep breath. Nervous compassion came from the other end of the line.

Oh my God, Rich, Trudy said softly. Wait a minute. There was silence on Trudy’s end for several seconds. When she returned, she continued, Rich, it’s Monty. He’s on the other line. I told him briefly what you shared with me. He wants to know what’s going with his brother. He is going to call you.

I gave her my phone number at the beach and then hung up to wait for Monty’s call. In a short few seconds, my phone rang, and I pushed the answer button. The usually chipper Monty was anxious.

Rich, wh-wh-what happened?

Your brother had a fire in his condominium. He’s in the hospital, and he’s in trouble, Monty. My lower eyelids began to well up with tears. I hesitated as I took in another slow deep breath. I think you need to get down here, Monty, as soon as you can.

I’m on my way.

I’ll pick you up at the airport. Just let me know which one and when.

I’m going to drive down, Rich.

I was a bit taken by surprise. I emphasized in a strong tone, From what little I know, your brother is in serious trouble! Don’t you think you should fly?

He repeated that he’d drive down. I wanted to end the conversation, because I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Baines and Monty were not the closest of brothers. Sometimes years would go by without either one of them contacting the other. I bid Monty farewell and told him I would call as soon as I heard about any change in Baines’s condition before he arrived in Los Angeles.

I tried Tim Ball once again and was greeted a second time by an answering machine. I hung up, frustrated. I decided to call Baines’s other best friend, Rowdy Ralphs, who lived in Studio City, not too far from the burn center in Sherman Oaks.

He answered in a subdued voice on the second ring. Hello, Rowdy’s residence.

Rowdy, this is Richard Hulse! I said anxiously.

Rowdy perked up on hearing my voice. Daddy-o, what’s up? Long time no see.

I know, Rowdy. I paused. Rowdy, Baines is in trouble.

I gave Rowdy the details I knew about what had happened to Baines and what I knew about his condition.

Jesus Christ, Rich! I’m on my way to the hospital.

I told Rowdy that I was down at my beach pad and that he’d most likely get to the hospital before me. I told him about Monty. He didn’t say anything, but I was sure he understood where Monty was coming from based on his knowledge of Monty’s and Baines’s relationship.

"Rich, I’ll call you on my cell phone